Chapter 14: The Home Security Check

Even if I had concealed a few minor details, everything I had just uttered was undeniably true!

Yet, her attempts at justification only deepened the suspicion in Qian Xidong’s gaze.

Without further ado, Qian Xidong proceeded to open the bag for inspection.

Despite her desire to maintain an air of authority before her younger sister, Qian Surou felt a profound sense of guilt, readily submitting to what Qian Xidong had dubbed the “home security check” protocol.

After a thorough search, Qian Xidong found nothing remotely suspicious.

Her gaze repeatedly flickered up to Qian Surou, scrutinizing her sister’s face for any tell-tale signs of deceit.

Qian Surou remained perfectly impassive, her demeanor utterly composed.

‘See? Nothing at all! Good thing I was clever enough!’

Qian Surou had long since deposited the money into her account and disposed of the incriminating envelope.

After meticulously tidying the bag, Qian Xidong returned its contents to their original places.

Her nose, still flushed from her hurried journey, drew uncomfortably close to Qian Surou’s neck.

The soft inhalation that followed was utterly swallowed by the blare of car horns from the adjacent road, vanishing without a trace.

Qian Surou felt an odd tickle in her ear.

‘Clearly, the suspicion still lingered.’

She then began to mentally reconstruct Miss Yan’s attire from earlier that day, her hazy memory offering the unreliable conclusion that she hadn’t seemed to be wearing perfume.

‘Tsk, tsk. Why get so worked up? It’s not as if I was having a secret rendezvous.’

Qian Surou administered a crude dose of reassurance to herself.

She mused, ‘We didn’t even hold hands; our level of intimacy was less than that of newly acquainted classmates.’

‘At least when classmates gathered at a fast-food joint or a KTV, there would be incidental brushes and jostles.’

Under the guise of her newfound peace of mind, Qian Surou couldn’t help but scrutinize her sister’s words more closely.

‘What did she mean, “dumped by Xiao Ji”? I hadn’t breathed a word about it!’

‘And given Xiao Ji’s character, she would never have spread such a thing! How peculiar!’

As if divining Qian Surou’s thoughts, Qian Xidong began:

“It was obvious from the moment you walked in. You came home, painting clutched in hand, looking utterly dejected, your eyes swollen from crying, yet you stubbornly claimed it was from cooking fumes. You didn’t even remember that you had made sandwiches and soup yourself.

“You were completely out of sorts.

“You, who despise anything bitter, swapped your usual red bean soup for black coffee.

“And the lyrics drifting from your cheap headphones—’As seasons turn, I’ve lost your heart. Tell me, is love merely a transient dream? Yes, a romance between two souls is a tale without interwoven paths.'”

She sang rather well, yet—

“Xi-Xidong! Please, stop singing!”

Qian Surou, her face blazing crimson, wished she could simply wither into a common foxtail weed by the roadside.

‘Hmph, that’s utterly impossible—it was merely a fleeting fancy!’

‘How could I be so overly dramatic?’

‘I no longer like Xiao Ji at all! Absolutely not!’

‘That dolt must be the lingering influence of my ‘former self’!’

Qian Surou screamed internally.

Qian Surou’s fingertips seemed to have no proper place to settle, her ten digits fidgeting, intertwining, and then separating again.

Qian Xidong simply turned her face away, an expression of detached indifference on her features, her inexpensive sneakers scraping against the pavement as she pushed her bicycle forward at an agonizingly slow pace.

Her somewhat gaunt cheeks were subtly distorted by the late summer breeze, her expression an intricate blend of sorrow and joy.

After a moment, she regained her composure, tilting her head back to speak:

“Sister, even though you were dumped, it certainly wasn’t because you aren’t pretty or cute enough. You simply chose the wrong person. There are still plenty of girls out there who like other girls…”

Her words carried an inexplicable weight of persuasion.

Qian Xidong consistently brought home the love letters she received, only to discard them, a sight Qian Surou had witnessed countless times while taking out the rubbish.

In an all-girls school, a somewhat androgynous style of dress could easily send unintended signals.

“I’m rather surprised, Xidong, to find you so concerned about me!”

Qian Surou chuckled softly as she caught up to Qian Xidong, only to find herself facing the back of her sister’s high ponytail.

The bicycle was parked to the left of the trapezoidal landing, and together, they entered the building, its paint already beginning to peel.

The old stairwell echoed with a dull thudding sound.

Living in such a dwelling was a novel experience for them both.

The interior, roughly 65 square meters, had been transformed into a wonderfully cozy nest.

Through Qian Surou’s piecemeal efforts—adding decals, potted plants, and an assortment of small hanging and standing ornaments—it had been transformed into a wonderfully cozy nest.

Harboring aspirations of eventually taking over the family business, Qian Surou had applied to Duyou University’s internationally acclaimed Environmental Design program, intending to minor in Management.

However, given their family’s recent decline, she now felt that a minor in Computer Science or Education would be a more prudent choice.

During every holiday in previous years, Qian Surou had served as a drafting assistant for the chief designer of the Qianjia Resort Group.

She engaged in discussions and learning sessions with other designers, and while she hadn’t yet reached a stage of complete independence, she believed the practical enhancement she could gain from undergraduate studies would be quite limited.

As for her own painting, she had been studying under a master since childhood, attending two lessons each week.

The year before last, she had already earned her mentor’s approval, who concluded with the assessment: “Technique is abundant, but spirit is lacking,” and encouraged her to simply paint whatever stirred her soul.

First, she went to the bathroom to freshen up, patting her cheeks in the mirror.

Next, she conducted a surprise inspection of the refrigerator.

‘Excellent! Sergeant Handmade Noodles, Corporal Tomato, Private Lettuce—dismissed!’

Qian Surou decided that dinner tonight would be a strictly takeout affair.

Rubbing her stiff shoulders, she felt a slight dizziness wash over her.

She then delivered a sharp elbow strike to the nearby wall.

She had always assumed that the concept of “falling on flat ground” was confined to video games.

However, Qian Surou was now intimately acquainted with the reality of poor balance.

Despite her familiarity with controlling her body, there were moments—when her focus wavered or she became overly complacent—that she would stumble, her movements resembling those of a writhing conductor.

Pressing her fingertips to her temples, she opened her sister’s bedroom door without a second thought.

“…A-ah!”

Qian Xidong, tangled in a messy blanket, jolted so violently that her head struck the headboard.

A pained groan escaped her lips, and her body instinctively curled up like a cocoon.

One side of her headphones had been yanked off, its wire now hopelessly tangled between the fingers of her left hand.

Both her cheeks and neck were flushed crimson, and her brow was so deeply furrowed it seemed capable of crushing a fly.

‘Why didn’t you knock? Why did you suddenly barge in? Why, why, why?’

Her glare was one of pure resentment.

Once her somewhat ragged breathing finally steadied, Qian Xidong spoke with a tone of utter disgust:

“Sister, why didn’t you knock? Haven’t I told you repeatedly to knock before entering my room? Has your recent heartbreak caused you to forget even basic courtesy?”

Her reprimand was a mere facade to conceal her burgeoning panic.

In truth, she was screaming internally, ‘I’ve been discovered!’

Her mind raced, conjuring images of slapping herself twice, strangling herself, or simply smashing her head against the wall.

Yet, unable to act on any of these impulses, Qian Xidong could only lie there, feeling like a live fish in a pot, slowly having its moisture evaporated—a complete social demise before her sister.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Xidong. I was a little too happy today, and I got carried away.”

Qian Surou gazed at her sister’s face, then stepped closer and extended a finger.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re a little warm to the touch.”

Qian Xidong’s forehead was then gently covered by a warm, soft palm.

After comparing Qian Xidong’s forehead to her own and confirming the slight fever, Qian Surou mumbled, “Wait a moment,” before darting towards the cabinet where medical supplies were stored.

Due to their mother’s illness, a well-stocked medicine cabinet was kept, with items neatly categorized for specialized and daily use.

By the time she returned, armed with a thermometer and fever-reducing medication, Qian Xidong, still on the bed, had visibly calmed.

“Don’t push yourself too hard with your training. You kept turning your face away just now, clearly worried I’d notice you weren’t feeling well, wasn’t that it?

“I know you, Xidong, must have felt I was too tired and were trying to be considerate of me, but if you ever feel unwell, you absolutely must tell your sister.

“That way, when I get sick, I’ll know I can rely on you, Xidong.”